I do

"I do."
It was supposed to be a bond unbreakable.
Yet it became nothing more than a binding chain.
A chain that would create a noose.
 
At first it was it was beautiful.
She was the moth.
I was the flame.
Then I said “I do,” and nothing was the same.
 
I once plucked roses for her.
Now it is her heart that has begun to wither.
Like a dying rose her petals are hard and brittle.
It seems as though now I am but a thorn in her side.
 
Having lost my love I no longer had a reason to live.
To rid myself of these chains I hung from a rope.
Feel free, I do.